


Payday 2 Oneshots

by Lucian_Price



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games), PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Other, Porn With Plot, Random & Short, oneshots, random inspo from Tumblr, will add more tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucian_Price/pseuds/Lucian_Price
Summary: Honestly this is just a collection of random oneshots based off of Payday 2. Most will be unrelated, some may have some minor connections. NSFW will be tagged as such in the chapter title, warnings will be in a note at the beginning of the chapters. Please feel free to comment requests, or ask for requests on my Tumblr  https://www.tumblr.com/blog/s-w-a-n-p-r-i-n-c-e
Relationships: Dallas/Hoxton | James "Jim" Hoxworth, Hoxton | James "Jim" Hoxworth/Wolf, Jacket (Hotline Miami)/Sokol (Payday), Jacket (Hotline Miami)/Wolf (Payday)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 26





	1. Who Ate my Brother's Ass? Dallas x Hoxton

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW mention, nothing sexual happens. I was inspired by this Tumblr post that I can't seem to find anymore, but if you know who wrote it please let me know so I can properly credit them!  
> Hoxton: Who ate my leftovers?  
> Houston: Who ate my brother's ass? 
> 
> Also, people actually sleep in the safehouse in this one

It was a rather quiet morning in the safehouse. Hoxton blearily stared at the ceiling, the warm spot next to him slowly fading. Dallas had long since left for his civilian job at the bank. He was grateful that their shared room had no windows in it, no sun would stream into the room to blind his tired eyes. Hoxton shifted in the bed, and stared at the Dallas' spot. It was rather unfortunate that he was not a morning person, in fact he was far from it. He wouldn't exactly categorize himself as a night owl either. He didn't know what he was, he just knew he hated mornings. Loud bangs and drilling noises emanated from the room next door. "Bloody hell." He cursed to himself. What time was it? Did Wolf really need to be working this early in the morning? He glanced at the small clock on Dallas' nightstand, it was 2 in the afternoon. A relatively acceptable time to be awake and working. He shifted his weight in the bed, and rolled out of it. The blankets clung to his bare waist, it was something that Dallas never understood. Hoxton needed to sleep naked, he ran too hot through the night. Before his time in prison, the other crewmates had seen more of him than they'd ever wanted to see in their lives. He didn't feel the need for modesty, and had no issues with walking around as naked as the day he was born. Things changed when he got back from prison, the young Englishman would only be nude just going in and out of the shower. Prison had taken a horrid toll on him. 

Dallas was understanding of this when he had gotten out. He had helped Hoxton to work through his anxieties and helped his lover slowly return to his usual self. It had taken a while for Hox to be okay with being fully nude again, but it really helped to cement to himself that that was over. His tie in prison was over, and he'd be damned if he ever got caught like that again. He stretched his arms out wide, feeling his joints crack and pop as he finished waking up. His stomach growled loudly, guess that's what happens when you get up so late in the afternoon. He stood up from his warm spot on the bed, and threw on his housecoat and slippers. It was a soft blue color, a birthday present from Dallas. The floorboards creaked as he walked towards the door. The safehouse, while it was new, had a lot of character. The floorboards creaked in certain places, some of the doors were chipped in places. Most folks didn't mind, to them the safehouse was home. 

Hox twisted the knob, and pulled it open. The sounds of drilling and tinkering becoming even louder when he emerged into the hall. He decided to stop in at Wolf's room just to see what the Swede was working on. He knocked on the closed door loudly, hopefully that would get Wolf's attention. "Come in!" He yelled from inside. The Swedish man had 2 volume; quiet, and eardrum bursting. He really didn't have an in between. It was alright for heists when things got a little chaotic, sometimes it was hard to hear each other over the loud popping of gunfire. Hoxton twisted the door knob and pushed it open. Wolf was hunched over his desk, metallic parts and tools scattered around it's surface. To an outsider, it looked like absolute chaos. Nothing seemed to have a place, just haphazardly strewn around. Wolf's bed sat in the corner of the room, it was unmade, and covered in blueprints. Sokol had made some suggestions to Wolf about the drills they were using. Just some tweaks to make them quieter, and some upgrades to make them more efficient. If Wolf had longer hair, it would've looked wild and unkempt. Hoxton wondered to himself when the last time Wolf had slept. 

"Hey Wolfie," Hoxton murmured, his voice on an uncharacteristic concern, "when was the last time you slept?" 

The young Swede turned his head to face Hoxton. His eyes were wild, his lips curled into an angry sneer. His face softened when he fully realized who was talking to him. Wolf didn't like to be bothered when he was in The Zone. It threw off his concentration, and he would need to mentally start from the beginning. "Oh! Good morning, Hoxtatron!" He replied rather cheerily, all evidence of his anger and hostility from before was gone. Forgotten like it had never happened. Mood shifts were a common thing for Wolf. Many of the newer members of the Payday gang avoided Wolf when they could because of that. His moods were rather unpredictable, he could be completely fine one moment, and the next he could be filled with homicidal rage. 

Hoxton idly rubbed at the scarred side of his face, it was akin to someone playing with their hair or beard. "Wolf, have you had anything to eat?" He inquired, he remembered that they had ordered Pad Thai for dinner the night before, but he couldn't remember the last time his friend had eaten something. 

Wolf furrowed his brows together for a moment in thought. When was the last time he had eaten? He couldn't remember having breakfast that morning, so it must've been the night before during dinner. "Ah, dinner yesterday." He said rather sheepishly. his eyes flicked downwards to avoid Hoxton's burning stare. 

It wasn't burning with anger, Wolf was one of the very few people who saw the softer side of Hoxton. He huffed softly, his dark hair bouncing softly on his shoulders as he shook his head. "Let's get you something to eat." He tutted softly, he was like a mother hen on occasion. There really wasn't an explanation for it. Maybe he was catching up on lost time? Maybe it's because he knew that his friend had a tendency to absorb himself in his work? He turned to start walking towards the door, there were leftovers to be had and they were calling his name. Wolf stood up quietly, his tools clunking on the table. His body ached in many places, his joints cracking as he stood. "Fucking hell, Wolfie, how long have you been working for?" He asked as they walked out of Wolf's room and into the hallway.

Wolf rubbed the back of his head as they walked down the stairs towards the kitchen. "Ah, since," he paused and cocked his head to the side in thought "7 this morning!" He chirped happily.

Hoxton shook his head again, dark hair swinging to and fro. They walked together into the kitchen. Wolf sat at the dining room table, he figured that the Englishman would sort something out for him. Houston sat at the table, he was reading a news article about a bank heist he had successfully pulled off with the crew. Wolf stared at the ripples and whirls in the wood grain. The sight was quite distracting and altogether very interesting. 

Hox opened the large fridge and dug around inside. He pushed to the side cans of rootbeer, vegtables, random condiments, and other people's food. He found Wolf's leftovers, but not his own. He brows knit together in frustration, which twat did this? Who ate his fucking leftovers? He took the Swedish man's food out of the fridge and placed it on the counter. Hox leaned his head around the corner where the dining room and kitchen met. The sight that greeted him wasn't out of the ordinary by any means, but he still quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Houston was still reading the paper, a glass of rootbeer in front of him, Wolf was slumped over on the table. Hoxton wasn't sure if he had died (unlikely) or if had just fallen asleep. "Oi, assface!" He sneered, his lips curling in a rather cruel manner. "Who ate my fucking leftovers?" 

Houston did not look up from his paper, and called out very loudly, "Who ate my brother's ass?" 

A light red blush crept up Hoxton's face. Wolf bolted upwards, the last thing that he had processed was Hox asking who ate his leftovers. "Fuck! I did, sorry Hoxtilicious." 

Houston immediately burst into laughter. Whether it was the fact that Wolf just implied that he ate Dallas' ass, or the shade of red that Hoxton's face went, was irrelevant. Hoxton's eyes threatened to burst from his head before they narrowed in anger. The vein on his forehead pulsed dangerously. "What the fuck?!" 


	2. NSFW Wolf X Jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW BDSM stuff with Wolf and Jacket. Kinks include blood, knives, electro stim, orgasm denial, bondage, and anal. Slight aftercare at the end

Jacket strapped Wolf down to the cold metal table. The whole room smelled clean, far too clean. The scent burned in Wolf's nose, it smelled like a hospital if he was being honest. An electric tingle ran up and down his spine at the thought of what was about to occur. His whole body was bare, save for the gag and blindfold he had on. He ran a tongue across the surface of the gag, it was a silicone bit gag. An excellent choice, it was a newer purchase of theirs. He remembered fondly the conversation they had had while shopping for new toys. A warmth crept up his face thinking about it.

He didn't know what Jacket was planning on using, whether he would use a mix of tried and true favorites and new toys, or if he would just use new pieces. That was the benefit of the blindfold. It kept Wolf guessing about what was to happen next, it let him really sink into his role. That was something Wolf and Jacket agreed upon, Wolf frequently over thought things, so it was important for him to not have to think too much. There was a sound of something metal being picked up off a metal tray.

Wolf tensed up, a soft moan escaping his lips passed the gag. Drool was beginning to dribble out the sides of his mouth, and pooling beside his head. It was a little uncomfortable, and mildly humiliating, something that only served to turn him on more. Cold steel brushed across his belly, a sensation that made his toes curl involuntarily. His cock twitched with eagerness as the cold steel traveled down towards his thighs. The blade was lifted off his skin, and the tip of it was placed under his chin, a silent command for him to lift his head up.

There was a metallic jingling sound, and then the feeling of softened leather around his neck. Jacket clasped the collar around Wolf's neck, the leather felt warm against his neck. Jacket pressed his lips softly to Wolf's neck, and trailed kisses down to his side where he bit down harshly. It was his way of saying 'You belong to me.' He licked the spot where he had just bit down, Wolf was certain that Jacket had drawn blood. Fuck that idea made him throb. He felt Jacket pull away again, leaving nothing but the stinging of his bite.

Wolf strained to hear Jacket, to try and see where the other man had gone. The smell of rubbing alcohol filled Wolf's nose, he crinkled his nose in mild disgust. It wasn't the most pleasant smelling thing in the world. He felt the cold liquid on his skin, and then a cotton pad rubbing in the alcohol. "This will only hurt for a moment." A bright feminine voice sounded from somewhere. He felt the cold steel from before on his skin again, except this time it pressed harder against the skin of his thigh. It pressed in hard enough to break the skin, eliciting a pained hiss from Wolf.  
  
He almost wished he could see what his lover was doing, but it was almost better this way. Left in suspense as to what would happen next, it was thrilling being left to the mercy of Jacket. Jacket pressed the blade into Wolf more, drawing out a couple of shallow cuts. They were just deep enough to draw blood, but shallow enough that they wouldn't need stitches. Wolf felt the restraints around his legs loosen, and then felt Jacket pull his legs apart. The restraints were quickly redone, Jacket just wanted better access to Wolf's ass. Jacket slicked his instruments with lube, an e-stim butt plug. Just something to loosen Wolf up a bit. He made sure the plug was nice and wet, and then applied the lube from his fingers to Wolf's ass. Slowly he pressed the plug into the man on the table, Wolf tried his best to keep himself relaxed. The lube was so very cold in his most sensitive areas. The metal plug felt even colder inside him, though he knew it would warm up soon.

Jacket turned the plug on, a tingling sensation spreading through Wolf's body. He felt the electricity pulsing through his ass, it was unlike anything else he had ever experienced before. He moaned loudly, the drool pooling under his head was starting to reach his shoulders, and his jaw was starting to ache. As if he could read minds, Jacket unfastened the gag from Wolf's mouth. The Swede opened and closed his mouth a few times to work out the muscles, and then ran his tongue across his dry lips. Another moan escaped his lips as another wave of electricity moved through him, Jacket had turned the machine up just a little. He wanted to see how much they could push Wolf's limits before he would start begging for release. Wolf knew the rules of their dynamic very well, he wasn't allowed to cum without permission, and if he did, well he knew the rules. It would be another week with the chastity cage locked to his cock.

"Please, sir." Wolf begged, his hips bucking upward without his permission. His toes curled and he gulped in air. He wanted a release so bad, but it seemed as if his lover was a cruel one today. Jacket nipped at Wolf's earlobe, and licked the outer cartilage. "Please..." Wolf begged again, his plea sounded so broken.

Jacket turned off the machine, and carefully removed it from Wolf. His breathing hitched in his throat, his body was so sensitive. Jacket ripped open a condom, and rolled it over his own cock. He proceeded to slather on a generous amount of lube, and reapplied some to Wolf's tender ass. Wolf felt Jacket line himself up to fuck him, and Jacket rolled his hips forward slowly. He slid himself in and out at a rather slow pace, the kind that drove Wolf almost to the edge. Jacket angled himself to hit Wolf's prostate, which caused Wolf to cry out with pleasure. His hips bucking up into Jacket's, "Please," He moaned loudly, his words long and drawn out "harder."  
  
Jacket snapped his hips forward into Wolf's, and started up at a brutal pace. Jacket gripped onto Wolf's hips for extra stability. His balls felt so tight and heavy, he knew he was close, and Wolf knew it too. "Proceed." The same feminine voice from before sounded out. Wolf pondered for a moment where it came from, but the thought was immediately dashed away as his orgasm wracked through his body. His hips bucked upwards involuntarily, his cum gushing up towards his chest. Jacket pumped erratically before he finished, his breathing was heavy and labored. When he caught his breath, he removed himself from Wolf to dispose of the used condom.  
  
Wolf shivered, the room was cold, and it felt even colder without Jacket nearby. He felt tired and spent, a wave of sadness started to wash over him. Jacket returned shortly with a warm towel, he removed the blindfold from Wolf's eyes, and quickly began undoing the restraints. When Wolf was free, he started on cleaning him up. Wolf immediately shot up and wrapped his arms around Jacket, sobs wracking his body. Jacket held Wolf close to him, and picked him up to carry him over to the bed in the room. He laid Wolf down, and climbed in next to him. The two of the snuggled in silence for a while, the only sounds being Wolf's sniffles and the sounds of the two of them breathing.

Wolf started to drift off to sleep, but not before murmuring "I love you, so very much." He rested his head on Jacket's chest, and fell asleep. Jacket kissed the top of Wolf's head, and sighed softly. He watched his lover's chest rise and fall for some time before he too, fell asleep. 


	3. Let's Do a Heist, Just You and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoxton and Sokol go on a heist, just the two of them. Nothing can go wrong, right? 
> 
> Ships: Dallas X Hoxton X Wolf  
> Characters: Dallas, Hoxton, Wolf, Sokol, and Houston

It had been a long time since Locke, Vlad, or hell even the Butcher, had contacted any one in the gang. They were having a horrendous dry spell of jobs. Some of the heisters were busy working on that Kataru shit, and some people were busy trying to fight the boredom. Wolf had locked himself away in the basement, he was trying to keep his mind off of Bain's sudden disappearance. Truthfully what better way to stay occupied than working on some technical improvements. Duke was busy trying to translate the cuneiform, and Dallas was busy trying to keep himself together for the sake of the crew. In his eyes as the de facto leader of the gang, it was his job to keep it together. If he falls apart, who is everyone else supposed to look to for support? Things were almost at a breaking point for the gang.

It was hard enough with all the new faces. Now that most people were actually living in the safehouse, thanks to Hox burning down the last one, personalities were starting to clash. Folks stayed at the safehouse, or at least nearby, in case there was a job. It helped to be on the premises, or at least it did in their minds, because they would be the first to know of a job. Some people stayed in the safehouse because they really had nowhere else to go. People who's faces were known by the FBI had nowhere else to go. It was safer for them to just stay put.

Hoxton paced anxiously throughout the office he shared with Dallas and Clover. Clover was zoning out in the surveillance room, and Dallas was anxiously scrolling through crime net. Hox had way too much energy that needed to be expelled, and unfortunately neither of his partners felt up for a little romp in the sheets. He had briefly entertained learning a new hobby, maybe learning a new skill. Unfortunately Hox was not a patient man, and with the energy that was building inside him, he lacked the attention span to sit and perfect his lockpicking skills. He had no desire to learn to drive on the wrong side of the road, whether he was nervous to learn to drive or not was a well kept secret, something that would be taken right to the grave.

"Hox." Dallas snapped his head up to shoot an icy look towards his partner. "You're gonna burn a hole in the fucking floor if you keep pacing." Dallas idly rubbed two fingers against his temple. The poor man's hair was gaining more and more grays as this shit went on.

Hox sneered derisively, "Well at least I'm doing summat."

Dallas quirked an eyebrow at Hoxton, truly the Englishman was getting on the American's nerves, though he wouldn't outwardly admit to it lest he start another fight.

Hox threw his hands in the air, and spun on his heels. "Fine, I'll go somewhere else then." He walked towards the doorway of the shared office space. Right before he walked out, he murmured to himself "Fuckin' wanker." Which was spoken just lout enough to earn a snigger from Clover as he passed her by. Hox wasn't really sure what to do with himself, and considered his options. He could go bother Houston, maybe fuck around with his stuff and blame it on Rust. Although that course of action may cause him and Dallas to have a domestic. He knew Wolf was in the basement working hard on improving the drills and sentries, the Swede had full access to the room he and Wick shared. Wick was out on business again, and no one really knew when he'd be back.

Hoxton just let his feet take him to wherever they led him through the safehouse. Eventually he would find something to do, and that would hopefully keep him occupied for a while. At least until Wolf or Dallas were free again. The heels of his dress shoes made a satisfying noise as he walked down the metal stairs to the ground floor. Aldstone was busy cleaning up the Dorito dust off the leather couch that Ethan had been sitting on next to the goat. The goat was snoring loudly, and generally just being a nuisance. Aldstone gave Hox a polite greeting, and continued trying to clean up the mess.

Hox determined that the ground floor wasn't where he'd find his source of entertainment, and he made his way towards the basement stairs. The air felt a few degrees cooler as he walked between the floors. Wolf always complained about it being a little hot in the basement, but the man was like his own little furnace. The basement was definitely cooler than the rest of the safehouse, the only room that was actually quite warm was Jacket's room. Although Hoxton tried to avoid going in there unless absolutely necessary. He would agree that Jacket made for a very effective heister, but that didn't mean that Hox had to like the guy. His demeanor was strange, and the fact that he rarely expressed any emotion was incredibly unnerving.

"Hey Hoxton!" The young Russian heister greeted him as he made his way down the hall. "Do you have the balls to play hockey against me, one on one." Sokol's eyes twinkled with such excitement, the young heister was so ecstatic to actually have his own little hockey rink in the basement. While it wasn't real ice, it was the best he would get with the space they all had to work with.

Hox briefly considered his options, he could have his ass handed to him in a sport he really didn't care for, or he could drag Sokol out for a quick bank heist. The two of them could handle it, it would be a real quick hit and run. In and out, make some money, and have fun doing it! He knew that Sokol was itching to get out more, Sokol was just able to hide it better by putting all his energy into practicing his hockey skills. "How about you and me get outta here." Hoxton spoke in a more hushed tone when he got closer to Sokol.

Sokol grinned widely, showing off a little dimple in his cheeks. "I did not think you would ask."

  
The air was absolutely electric as Sokol and Hoxton made their way up the basement stairs. Sokol would drive, that was the agreement he and Hox had made. As they approached the garage, it seemed relatively quiet. Something that would make stealing, no, borrowing the car without permission. Stealing implied that it didn't belong to them, and technically the van belonged to the whole gang, right? It was settled, they were going to borrow the van, and would go out for a quick heist and be back before anyone noticed they were gone. The garage was empty, the only light was just the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the open door. Rust must've been upstairs eating his not-so secret stash of pudding, and Sydney was busy hanging out with Jacket. They were perfect for each other, both a little off their rockers. Plus they balanced each other out, Sydney talked almost too much, and Jacket not at all.

Sokol and Hoxton had hardly laid their hands on the van before someone slid out from underneath it. Houston's face and body was covered is streaks of grease and oil. He glanced at Sokol, and then glanced at Hoxton. His face immediately turned sour upon laying eyes upon the latter man. "What d'you want, teabag?" His eyes narrowed, Houston didn't very much appreciate Hox in his space, and the same was true in reverse. If Hox had known that Houston was in the garage, he would've been a little more obvious about his entrance. Nothing quite like riling up Houston a little before a heist.

"We're off to give your mum a good time." Hoxton sneered and placed a hand on the passenger's side of the van. The drivers side clicked open, and Sokol hopped in.

"What the fuck?" Houston looked past Hoxton's head to see Sokol sitting in the van. "You guys are going out, aren't you?" While cadence indicated a question, it was really more of a statement.

"What's it matter to you, wanker?" Hoxton retorted and jumped in next to Sokol.   
  
Sokol revved the engine to life and fiddled with the radio.

"I'll tell Dallas you're going out on a heist." Houston threatened. The young American knew that Hoxton and Sokol didn't have a job to do. There would've been a discussion about it, and there would've been more than two people going. That is the way that heisting with the Payday gang was, it's how it's always been and always will be. Things would get dangerous quickly without the extra bodies, and without someone to be the eyes in the sky. You couldn't exactly know about police activity and keep civvies in check, it just wasn't feasible.

Sokol craned his neck around to see Houston. "Don't tell him, and you can come." The last thing they needed was Dallas getting involved. He was like a mother hen sometimes, concerned for his family, sometimes to a fault. It was a little bothersome to change the mostly non-existent plans last minute, but it was better than having Dallas get them all in shit.

"I'm driving then." Houston stated as he walked around to the other side of the van.   
  
Hoxton scowled at Houston's intrusion. He truthfully looked like the older brother who was being made to share his things with his younger brother. It wasn't an ideal situation, but it was better than not only being chewed out by one of the self proclaimed dads of the gang, but also by one of his boyfriends. It was like a double whammy of nagging and concern.

Sokol made a face at Houston, but he crawled into the back of the van anyway. He wanted to drive, but he also knew it would cause another disturbance if he tried to argue with Houston. It would give Sokol the opportunity to fiddle with his weapons on the way to the bank.

Hoxton was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the bank. He said nothing as they arrived at their destination, Harvest and Trustee bank. He was simmering internally about Houston's intrusion. There are just some things you can't let go, and for Hox, someone replacing him like that was one of them. His identity was something he clung to for dear life in prison, a place where he really had nothing but some connections, and Matt. The thing that was fun about Matt was kicking his ass once in a while, it was good way for him to blow off steam during his time at Hazleton. The only drawback to breaking Matt's ribs, was solitary confinement. Solitary was Hoxton's one personal hell. A place where all there is, is the sounds of your own heartbeat, your own mind running a mile a minute.

The three heisters put their heads together to discuss a plan, Houston wanted to go in stealthy, take out the guards and cameras. Go in, and get out quick, leave no trace behind that they had ever been there. Naturally Hoxton wanted the complete opposite. While it would be nice to not have to call in at the safehouse and explain the situation, Hox was also desperate for something to get the blood pumping. Unfortunately for him, going in quiet didn't exactly do that for him. Sokol really just wanted to get out and make some money. The three heisters eventually settled for Houston's plan. They would go through the back, take out the guards, subdue the civvies, and coerce one of them into opening the vault.

They carefully made their way across the street, avoiding being seen too much by the people inside the bank. Houston quickly got to work picking the locks, the other two heisters slipped their masks over their faces. The three of them advanced into the bank, the plush carpet helping to muffle their footsteps as they walked trough the bank. Houston split off from the other two to disable the cameras, and to deal with the guards.

It was showtime, and Hoxton was so ready. Electricity tingled across his skin, he felt more alive than he had in the last little while. "Everybody stay the fuck down!" He shouted, brandishing his weapons to showcase that he was very serious. The civvies cowered in fear, it was quite a thrill to be in control in situations like this. Sokol was busy getting the bank manager to open the vault. Hoxton promptly got to work applying cable ties to the civilians. "Stay very fucking still, sunshine, better get used to it." He spoke rather harshly to a civ who was trying to wriggle her way away from Hoxton.

"Hey, the vaults open!" Sokol called from the vault door. Hoxton and Houston quickly joined the Russian heister at the vault door. The cage inside the vault was unlocked, which made hauling the gold out that much faster. It was a shock that banks still carried gold like this inside vaults, but truly no one was going to complain about it considering the money they'd be making. The three heisters got to work carrying the gold out to the van. It was heavy, but they made quick work of it.

* * *

They promptly left the bank, and were going back to the safehouse. Houston made a wrong turn, and was driving up to a fast food joint. "Oi, wanker, where d'you think you're going?" Hoxton snapped at Houston.

"I'm hungry." Houston stated matter of factly. "Sokol, do you want something?" He glanced in the rear-view mirror to look at Sokol, who merely shrugged. Houston took that as a yes, and drove up to the speaker to put in his order.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Hoxton was seething. He didn't really want anything, but it was the fact that he hadn't even been asked that bothered him.

"Don't you have some beans and toast?" Houston snickered. He spoke again with a really overdone and shitty British accent, "Or maybe some fish and chips?"

Hoxton rolled his eyes and flipped him off. "Wanker." Was all he really had to say about that. Perhaps it was better to not indulge in Houston's childish behavior, he could and would be the better person for once. Dallas would be excited that Hoxton hadn't instigated any issues with the man's younger brother.

The rest of the ride home was rather uneventful. As much as Hox was hesitant to admit it, Houston was actually a pretty decent driver. He drove like a bat outta hell for sport, but when it came to ferrying everyone back to the safehouse, it was a smooth ride. Sokol whistled a tune from his childhood when they arrived back at the safehouse. Hoxton and Houston stepped out of the van, and the three heisters started unloading the bags from the van. The safehouse was just as quiet as it was when they had left it that afternoon. It was much later in the day now, the sun was setting with pink and orange streaks across the sky. Had they really been gone that long? It hadn't really felt that way, although they had made a couple of other stops along the way home.

Houston took the opportunity to drag them all to the hardware store, he needed to replace some tools. He also took the chance to make Hoxton pay for gas. The reason being that Hox was going to take the van anyway, and that it was his job to refill the tank. Otherwise there would be issues from both Houston and Twitch.

The three heisters finished unloading the heavy bags of gold down towards the basement. There they made good use of the elevator in the vault to bring things downstairs. It was hard work, but it went by rather quickly. When the work was finished, Sokol stayed in the basement to work out a bit. It was prime time as Dragan wasn't in, there was no one to criticize his shape. Houston departed to go back to his garage, he wanted to break in the new tools and to finish the repairs and adjustments on the van. This all left Hoxton by himself, again.

He figured he could just slip back upstairs unnoticed. The safehouse was really quiet. Most of the heisters had gone home for the night, only a select few actually lived there fulltime. Hox had caught Dallas sleeping at his desk too many times to count, Bain's disappearance had really taken it's toll on him. It had taken a toll on all of them, if Hox was being honest, but it seemed to affect Dallas the most. The two had been very close. Hoxton walked quietly into the darkened office, Clover was no longer in the security room, so she too must've gone home for the night. Hoxton walked further into the room, he wanted to grab the lighter he had left on top of his filing cabinet before also heading home for the night.

A floor lamp clicked on, and a figure spun dramatically in the chair across from Hoxton. "Where were you today?" Dallas spoke carefully, there was a bit of an edge to his voice.

Hoxton cast his eyes to the ground for a moment, he looked like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I was out with Sokol and Houston, am I not allowed to go out?" He challenged. It wasn't like Dallas was pissed or anything, he was just worried. Hoxton was incredibly wary, his body felt tense, he was ready for a fight.

Dallas exhaled sharply through his nose. "I'm just worried about you, Jim." Dallas stood up from his chair to cross the room towards Hox. " _We're_ worried about you." Dallas spoke softly, reaching out to Hoxton.

It wasn't unlike for Hoxton to make reckless decisions, and it wasn't unusual for him to not talk about his personal feelings with people. Unfortunately that also included his partners, this was a fact that rather irked Dallas. Hoxton was rather good at putting up a façade of being okay and normal, but Dallas was learning how to see past all that. "I know." Hoxton murmured softly as he let himself be wrapped up in Dallas' embrace. "I'm sorry for making you both worried." He wrapped his arms snugly around Dallas, and pulled away for a moment to plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

Dallas returned the tender kiss, leaning in to deepen it. "I missed you." He spoke softly. "I'm sorry too, I've been too wrapped up in this Kataru shit."

They went on like that for a while, just standing in the middle of the office. Embracing each other and saying nothing. Just listening to the steady thump of the other's heart, a reminder that they were both alive. It felt like no time and all the time had passed when they felt another pair of arms wrap around the two of them. "Jag älskar dig." The young Swede murmured between the other two.

They shared the tender moment for a few moments more before Hoxton spoke again. "I hate to interrupt this love fest," he punctuated his sentence by giving both Dallas and Wolf a kiss, "but can we all go home? I'm fuckin tired."

"I like that idea." Wolf said softly. The three of them made their way out of the office and towards Dallas' car. They clambered in and headed home. This would probably become a frequent occurrence, at least until things started to settle down with the gang. Hoxton regaled his lovers with the stories from the heist earlier over a couple of beers.


	4. NSFW Sokol X Dallas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request for Arcade_14, I hope this fulfils your request :) Sokol X Dallas: BDSM, oral, chastity, slightly public, almost getting caught in the act, and kitty maid!

Dallas sat at his desk in his office. The safehouse was finally starting to shape up, and it was nice to finally kick back and relax. Most of the other heisters had already gone home for the night, but Dallas wasn't quite ready to pack it in yet. He drummed his fingers idly on the desk top, papers strewn all across it's surface. The pressure was really starting to get to him, trying to uncover the secrets of this Kataru shit, Bain's sudden disappearance. It was almost too much for him to handle. A soft groan escaped his lips, which he tried to hide with a cough.

Hoxton glanced over from his spot in the office, he had ben busy staring off his vision board. It had been converted from papers and clippings related to the rat, and was now dedicated to figuring out what happened to Bain. It was safer than keeping an electronic trail. Papers can be burned, even on short notice, computer files can be hacked and can be recovered if they're deleted. "You say summat?" He spoke to Dallas, he hoped it wasn't too obvious that Hox had been zoning out.

Dallas cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool. "Everything's good here, Jim. Why don't you head home for the night?" He shifted in his seat carefully, trying to not accidentally kick the kitten under his desk.

  
Hoxton furrowed his brows for a moment in thought. He noticed the slight sheen of sweat across Dallas' face. The office was a little warmer than usual, if he was being honest with himself. He smoothed a hand over his hair, "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, Nate." he spun on his heels and headed out, leaving Dallas alone in the office.

When Dallas was sure that Hoxton was out of earshot, he turned his gaze the spot under his desk. Sokol was knelt underneath, cat ears and a matching maid outfit, his mouth filled with Dallas' cock. "You almost got me caught, Kitten." He gently held the back of Sokol's head. Sokol tried to pull his mouth away to defend himself, but Dallas pushed him back down. "Oh no, as punishment you're not allowed to speak." He could feel Sokol's lips tighten into a smile around his cock. The Russian's tongue sliding up and down his length. Dallas leaned his head back, a soft moan passing his lips.

Hearing Dallas' moans spurred Sokol on to suck hard on the head of Dallas' cock. Something he knew drove Dallas wild, he was rewarded with a breathy cuss, and a rougher hand on the back of his head.

"Ah, just like that, Kitten." Dallas' toes curled inside of shoes, he was so close. Sokol had been under Dallas' desk for some time, just casually and gently sucking away at his master's cock. He was being punished for being a brat, talking back and overall not listening. Sokol was humiliated not only by the outfit, but the fact that if anyone walked behind Dallas they would easily see the Russian heister under the desk. The humiliation just made Sokol's cock strain to get hard, unfortunately the chastity cage prevented that. Sokol's cock belonged to Dallas, and he would only get use of it when Dallas deemed it so.

Sokol turned his eyes up to Dallas, and kept eye contact while he worked his mouth all the way to the base of Dallas' cock. He hummed softly as he did so, trying to see if Dallas could feel the vibrations on his cock. Dallas' hips bucked upwards, his balls tightening from Sokol's ministrations. He knew he was almost there, just a little bit more and he would need a release.

Dallas briefly thought of where to finish, if he would cum in Sokol's pretty little mouth, or if he would finish on Sokol's face. The Russian heister was so cute with his face covered in cum, the appearance was only made sweeter when Sokol would eat the cum on his face. "Open up, Kitten." Dallas commanded as he moved to remove his cock from Sokol's mouth.

Sokol moved away, opened his mouth and closed his eyes. Dallas' hot cum squirted into his open mouth, and on his nose and cheeks. Sokol swallowed the cum that landed in his mouth, and went to start wiping the rest of the cum before Dallas stopped him. The American heister hooked his fingers under Sokol's chin to make him tilt his head upwards. "Pretty little, kitten." He murmured softly. He started to gather the cum on his fingers, and with his other hand pressed his thumb to Sokol's mouth. Sokol's lips parted, and Dallas stuck his cum soaked fingers in Sokol's mouth. He hummed appreciatively, watching his kitten eat his cum was so depraved. It filled him with such joy to have Sokol trust him so much with his submission.

"Please, Master." Sokol began to beg, his voice hoarse from disuse. His balls felt heavy and swollen beneath the lacy panties he was wearing, his ass tender from the cat tail butt plug.

Dallas bit his lip softly, and sat up straighter in his chair. "Please what, kitten?" His voice was cool and reserved, he knew what Sokol wanted, he just wanted to hear the other man say it first.

"Will you please let me cum, Master?" Sokol pleaded again, his eyes round, and cheeks slightly reddened.

Dallas' eyes narrowed in thought for a moment before he spoke again. "Get on the table." He swept the papers to the side to make room for his lover. Sokol scrambled to climb over Dallas, who hadn't moved the chair so Sokol really needed to squeeze past the other man, and onto the top of the desk. The butt plug pressed in and shifted from the surface of the desk, a moan passing through the Russian heister's lips. Dallas hooked his thumbs underneath the waist band of Sokol's panties, and pulled them down his thighs. The only thing keeping Sokol's lower half covered, was the very short dress skirt.

If there were any other heisters left in the safehouse, they very easily could see Sokol and Dallas through the large window in the office. This thought only served to spur Dallas on as he lifted up the skirt. He leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on Sokol's balls. "Is this what you wanted, kitten?" He spoke softly, his tongue flicking out to leave a wet trail of saliva from the bottom of his balls to the base of his cock.

"Please." Sokol whined, it was a long and drawn out sound.

Dallas smirked softly as he pulled open a drawer in his desk, and deftly fished out a set of keys. He carefully unlocked the chastity cage, Sokol's cock quickly bouncing to life after being freed. A bead of precum formed at the tip, his cock felt swollen and so needy for attention. Sokol tilted his hips upwards, desperate for attention. Dallas leaned forward, and licked from the base and up to the tip. Just a little something to torture Sokol, he knew exactly what the Russian heister wanted, it was just a matter of drawing it out. Sokol was so easy to tease, what in the way he whined and moaned when Dallas swirled his tongue around the head of his cock. Dallas gripped Sokol's hips, leaving slight indents under his fingers, to prevent the younger heister from bucking his hips upwards.

Sokol would only receive what Dallas felt like he deserved, nothing more and nothing less. He wrapped his lips around the head, and slowly bobbed his head down. The feeling was pleasurable, but it was still not enough for Sokol who whined and begged for more. This only served to make Dallas go even slower, he would not reward bratty behavior. He licked trails up and down the shaft, feeling Sokol shiver beneath him. "Please, Master, I need to cum." Sokol moaned, his breath hitching in his throat. His breathing was heavy, he was very desperate for a release.

Dallas smirked, mouth full of cock, and sucked harder. He bobbed his head up and down, deep throating Sokol's cock. It was as silent way of saying 'Since you asked so nicely.' He moved his hands from their spot on Sokol's hips, to cup his lower back and ass. He wanted Sokol to move closer, and Sokol would be damned if he didn't take that opportunity. His hips bucked upwards involuntarily into Dallas' mouth, who's throat tightened with surprise. Dallas pulled his mouth off of Sokol's cock, and replaced it with his hand. He began to stroke at a brutal pace, and stood up to kiss his lover.

Sokol moaned into Dallas' mouth, he was so close, he almost couldn't take it anymore. Dallas nipped at Sokol's lower lip before he pulled away. The American heister leaned into his lover's ear and whispered "Cum for me, kitten." And by the gods did Sokol cum. His whole body shuddered as thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock and landed on Dallas and himself. It was going to be quite the mess to clean up later. He had been pent up for weeks, it was quite the severe punishment, not that he didn't deserve it.

He leaned his head to rest on Dallas' chest, his own breathing heavy and ragged. Dallas pulled Sokol closer to him, he didn't really care about the cum that was soaking into his suit. He always had a spare just in case something like this happened, or he ate jelly donut. He planted a gentle kiss to the top of Sokol's head, he smelled like cigarettes and sex. The two embraced for some time, not having moved from their spots in the office. Sokol wasn't ready to talk yet, still coming down from his high, and Dallas wasn't about to force him to speak.

"I love you." Dallas murmured as he stroked Sokol's back, something that usually put Sokol to sleep when they slept together. It was something they agreed provided comfort to Sokol, which made for a good bit of aftercare. Sokol hummed softly in response, words still not quite ready to pass his lips. "Let's get you cleaned up." Dallas set to work cleaning them both up, gently wiping away leftover cum from Sokol's face and body. He fetched a change of clothes from a larger drawer in the desk and got Sokol changed.

Sokol nuzzled his face into the crook of Dallas' neck, it was a warm spot and very comfy to rest his head when they embraced. "Thank you." He whispered, his voice was a little hoarse. He felt spent, and was honestly ready to just pass out in Dallas' arms.

"Let's get you home." Dallas scooped Sokol up in his arms firefighter style, and carried him out of the office. Sokol slept in Dallas' arms, which made it challenging to carry the younger man out of the safehouse, but Dallas made it work. He carefully deposited Sokol in the back seat, it was easier to prop him up that way, and started the drive home. He mulled over the events in his head, and thought about what the two of them would eat. He knew Sokol would be starving after he woke up, he was always hungry after a scene.


	5. NSFW Sokol X Jacket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Sokol X Jacket request for Arcade_14! I wrote something a little more tender, I thought maybe showing a softer side to Jacket would help counter the animosity from Sokol. It's a little bit longer than my other fics, hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Gentle and tender sex, a little bit of violence, Sokol is a bottom

The moment Sokol laid eyes on Jacket, he knew there would be trouble. The young Russian heister knew all about Jacket, and about what the man did in Miami. It was fucking brutal to say the least. He didn't know why Jacket did what he did, but honestly the details didn't really matter all that much. The man was a fucking monster, and Sokol didn't know when he would be next. Dallas assured him that Jacket was relatively safe, that the man had never attacked anyone in the gang, but Dallas' words didn’t really assure Sokol. Sokol was here in America for a job, and a chance at a more adrenaline filled life. Heisting back in Russia was fun, but it was nothing like the high stakes heists he had been on with the Payday gang. Sokol glanced behind him, all he could hear was the sounds of Jacket fiddling with his tapes. The idea sent a shiver down Sokol's spine. The tapes were fucking creepy, and he knew he wasn't the only one unnerved by it.

Sokol adjusted his position in his section of the basement, he was doing some deep stretches to prepare for the heist in a few days. They were hitting the Benevolent Bank, and the intel said there would be gold and stacks of cash. He would need to be on his A-game. He was not pleased about who would be accompanying him though. Bain had left the decision up to the gang on who would be going to the bank, and Dallas decided it would be a prime time to get Sokol and Jacket all buddied up. Sokol, Jacket, Hoxton, and Houston were all to go the bank in the morning to make a hefty cash withdrawal. There was no way things couldn't go wrong, right? Houston and Hoxton hated each other, and were constantly at each others throats. As well as the resentment Sokol had towards Jacket. The Russian heister didn't know for certain how Jacket felt about him, it was impossible to tell what Jacket was feeling or thinking ever. The man was like a brick wall, he showed no emotion ever, which honestly made the whole tape thing even weirder.

Jacket stared at Sokol from his spot in the basement, and the two made eye contact for a moment. Sokol briefly wondered what the American heister smelled like, and then rapidly shook away the thought. He still felt the blush creep up his cheeks, what was he, a young school boy with a stupid crush? Absolutely not. He sneered and stalked over to Jacket's doorway. He put a rough and calloused hand on Jacket's shoulder, and gave him a harsh squeeze. "Fuck you and your cassette. I will steal it while you sleep, and then you'll have to talk like a real person."

Sokol didn't see the fist that flew from Jacket's other side, it connected with Sokol's face with a sickening crack. His cheek blossomed with pain, it was on now. No holds barred, Sokol swung wildly for Jacket's face. Unfortunately for Sokol, Jacket was a more trained and skilled fighter. He ducked just in time, and wrapped his arms around Sokol's waist to knock him to the ground. His hands wrapped around Sokol's neck and squeezed. Sokol swung his knee upward to try and dislodge Jacket off of him. Sokol's throat was bruised and tender, his face was searing with pain. Fuck, why did he do that? Why did he poke the hornets nest like that? Maybe he just wanted to see what would happen, maybe he wanted to test to see if Jacket was actually more animal than man. Whatever his motive was, it was about to get his ass kicked.

Dragan heard the commotion, and called out down the hall to Wolf. Bodhi wasn't in at the time, something about needing new wax for his surf boards. Wolf came from down the hall, he was knee deep in working on some turret upgrades, and wasn't very interested in being disturbed. When he saw what was going on, he immediately jumped in. Dragan and Wolf grabbed Sokol and Jacket respectively and pulled the two heisters apart. The two heisters were breathing heavily, neither walked away from this fight unscathed. "Fuck you, fuck all of you." Sokol growled and shrugged off Dragan. He let his feet take him away, he didn't know where exactly he was going to go, but it needed to be somewhere away from all this shit. He couldn't exactly go far, his face was going to be an issue.

Years of getting into fights on the ice prepared him for licking his wounds. He wandered upstairs towards the bathroom. He just needed a well lit place he could bandage himself up with. His throat felt tight, he might not actually be able to go on the heist, which was incredibly unfortunate. If he couldn’t communicate, he'd be a detriment to the team. It would be dangerous to not actively be able to communicate. Sokol splashed some cold water on his face, it stung in many places. The water turned pink as it ran down the drain, he really was fucked up, wasn't he? He could feel his nose swelling, the damn thing was broken again, and his lip was split. Fuck. There was no way he could try and bribe Wolf and Dragan to keep the fight quiet, especially when the evidence was plastered to his face. A quick crack and a pop, he shifted his nose back to wear it needed to be.

He was fucking exhausted, the adrenaline from the fight was starting to wear off. Sokol ran a hand through his hair, and flashed himself an award winning smile. He turned away from the mirror, and cleaned up the first aid kit he raided. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling his joints crack and pop. A yawn bubbled past his lips, it was nap time. He made his way back to his room, carefully avoiding the other heisters, especially Jacket. He pulled back his blanket, and tucked himself into the soft sheets.

He wasn't really sure how much time had passed, he just knew that his head was fucking pounding. It also didn't really help that someone was pounding on his door, that was annoying, didn't they know his head hurt? He sat up a little too fast, and his head swam. He clenched his eyes tightly, and willed the room to stop spinning. His stomach growled, shit, he was so hungry. The pounding at the door grew more intense, why didn't they just fuck off? Sokol swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet hitting plush carpet. He walked over to the door and opened it. On the other side was a very concerned Dallas. He had that dad look about him, the one where you know you're in trouble, but you're not really sure why.

Dallas pushed his way past Sokol, and sat himself down on Sokol's bed. "You wanna tell me what happened today?" His brows knit together, fine lines and wrinkles deepening on his face.

Sokol sighed, and sat next to Dallas. "Jacket almost fucking killed me." His voice laced with venom. He launched into his story of how it happened, although he conveniently skipped over the part where he instigated Jacket.

Dallas listened intently, nodding along to Sokol's story. "Sokol, if I can’t trust the two of you to get along, how can I trust you to do the job?" Dallas shook his head. "I know what happened, I'm not angry, just disappointed. I expected better of you."

Sokol's face burned from the admonishing, Dallas was basically like one of the gangs many dads. Nothing was worse than disappointing one of your dads. Sokol looked away from Dallas, he couldn't meet his piercing gaze.

"You're benched until you can settle this shit." Dallas spoke with finality and stood up, Sokol spluttered excuses, but Dallas wasn't hearing it. "Figure it out, Sokol." He left the room and closed the door behind him.

Sokol wasn't really sure how he was going to improve this situation. Being benched really fucking sucked, it meant less opportunity to prove himself, and more shitty grunt work around the safehouse. Fuck.

Sokol and Jacket's "punishment" went on for some time. For the first couple of weeks, Sokol made no effort to try and make things better. Every time he saw Jacket he felt his anger rise up from within. Eventually things started to simmer down, and things started returning back to normal. A few weeks passed by before Dallas felt comfortable letting Sokol and Jacket go out on heists. First just one at a time, and then eventually Dallas sent the two out together. Bain had a new contract for the gang, they were going to hit First World Bank. It'd been a while since the last time, and honestly it was a good time.   
  
Dallas determined that he and Chains would go along with Jacket and Sokol. The plan was to go in, and make good use of their insider contact. If things went according to plan, they would walk away with a hefty payday, and without bullet holes. Jacket and Sokol still weren't on the best of terms, but Sokol didn’t really hate Jacket. Not anymore at least. The two had been spending some time together, Sokol learned that Jacket had a very impressive collection of vintage games. He had games that Sokol had never heard of before, and he also had games from his childhood. The two of the played together late into the night sometimes, something that Dragan frequently got on Sokol about.   
  
If Sokol was being honest with himself, he was actually starting to like Jacket. It was quite fun to hang out with him, despite the tape being creepy as fuck. He felt a fluttering in his stomach again, the same feeling he felt a couple of months ago before he and Jacket got into that fight. He felt closer to the American heister, which wasn't something he had ever expected to happen. Dallas interrupted Sokol's train of thought, it was time to head out to the bank.

The ride to the bank was quite uneventful, Chains and Dallas reminisced about the first time they hit First World Bank all those years ago. Things never quite went as smoothly as they did for the gang in the modern day. The man on the inside they had back then bailed, so they had to rely on the information they actually had. It was an utter shit show. Chains went over the plan one more time with everyone, just to make sure everyone memorized it before they all made their way inside.   
  
First World Bank was quite nice, not nearly as marvelous as the Benevolent Bank, but as far as banks went it was pretty great. The four heisters split off to do their tasks, taking out the cameras, shutting down the metal detectors, and finding key cards to gain access to the vault. Things were going incredibly smoothly, it was going almost too smoothly. The four heisters met up with the insider, who let them into the vault hallway. Things got a little trickier after that, but the gang managed to pull through. They arrived at the vault, and started dumping the cash into large duffle bags.

Bain had given them information about a vent they could throw the bags in, it let out near the dumpsters where a garbage truck would hide the loot. It was the perfect plan. Things continued on, smooth as butter. Sokol popped open a few of the deposit boxes, and stuffed his pockets full of cash. It was going to be a good day. After filling the bags with the cash, they began securing it in the vents. Everything was going off without a hitch, a stark contrast to their first hit on the bank.

The heisters continued to sneak their way through the bank, and towards the exit where they would meet up with Twitch driving a garbage truck. That man could drive pretty much anything, he was an incredibly flexible driver. They secured the bags in the truck, and then they were off back to the safehouse. The ride home was much cheerier than the ride in. Everyone, except for Jacket, chatted about the hit. Things went off without a hitch, and the score exceeded everyone's expectations.

When they arrived back at the safehouse, they unloaded everything to the vault. After that was just leisure time, there really wasn't much else to do. Sokol didn't bother getting an apartment in the area, he just stayed at the safehouse all the time. He made his way back to his room, and flicked on the TV in the corner. Wolf managed to wire the thing to get Russian cable! Sokol was watching one his old team play Hockey, but not without much commentary about his replacement. There was a gentle knock at the door, which caused Sokol to perk his head up. "Come in." He called out to the person on the other side.

  
The door opened up, and there stood Jacket. He walked in, closed the door behind him, and crossed the floor to Sokol. He pressed his lips to Sokol's his hands entangling themselves in his hair. Sokol was slightly taken aback, but he leaned into the kiss. He pulled Jacket closer to him, feeling the warmth radiate off of his body. Jacket gently pushed Sokol over so the younger man would be lying on his back. Sokol nipped at Jacket's lower lip, a blush creeping up his cheeks. It was a welcome contrast to the last time Jacket had been on top of Sokol.

The Russian heister hooked his thumbs under the collar of Jacket's namesake, and gently tugged it down his arms. His bare arms felt smooth against Sokol's calloused hands. Jacket cupped Sokol's face as he pulled away to breathe. The two of them were panting heavily as Sokol shucked his shirt to the side, Jacket quickly followed suit. Sokol didn’t expect the other man's chest to be so heavily scarred, but to be fair he really didn’t know much of Jacket's background. Jacket planted gentle kisses down Sokol's neck, and down to his collar bone.

Sokol's hands roamed down to Jacket's pants, he gave the other man's ass a firm squeeze before making his way towards the belt. The two of them stripped each other down until there were no more layers between them. Their lips crashed together feverishly, their hands exploring each other's bodies. Fingers tangling in the others hair. Jacket pulled out a condom from his pile of clothing on the floor, and Sokol produced a bottle of lube from under his pillow. Wordlessly Jacket rolled the condom onto his cock, and Sokol squirted a healthy amount of lube onto it. He wrapped his hand around the other man's cock to work the lube all around. He wanted to make sure the whole thing was coated evenly.

Jacket guided himself down to Sokol's ass, who was shivering with anticipation beneath him. Sokol gasped as Jacket slowly entered him, the lube felt incredibly cold in his most sensitive of places. Jacket slowly pushed his hips forward, allowing Sokol an opportunity to get used to the sensation. When Jacket hilted inside Sokol, the two stayed still for a moment, staring into each others eyes. Sokol looped his arms around Jacket's neck, and started to gently fuck himself on Jacket's cock. Jacket rolled his hips forward, the two of them moving together in tandem.

Sokol had fucked many people back in Russia, something that came easily to him as a famous hockey player. Never had he had sex like this before, never something so gentle and passionate. Sokol tilted his head back, eyes closed, soft moans and gasps passing his lips. "Ah, you feel so good." He murmured softly. His body felt wound tight, like a spring. Jacket leaned his face in to nip at Sokol's neck, which caused Sokol to produce more soft moans. It was like music to Jacket's ears, to know that Sokol enjoyed what he was doing. Jacket picked up the pace, rough grunts escaping his own lips. Sokol pulled Jacket closer, he felt like a rubber band ready to snap.

Sokol's hands roamed across Jacket's back, fingers passing over rough and bumpy scars. Jacket picked up the pace, and reached a hand between their bodies. He wrapped his fingers around Sokol's cock, and began to stroke him. Sokol's hands gripped the sheets beneath them, an orgasm rocking his body. Jacket wasn't very far behind, rough grunts and pants. Hot sticky cum spread between their bodies. Jacket pulled out of Sokol, who was panting heavily beneath him. The older man plucked a few tissues from the nightstand to clean them both up. Sokol was on cloud nine, his body tingling as he started to come down from his orgasm.

Jacket sidled up next to Sokol, and covered them both in Sokol's large blanket. The pair laid together in silence for some time, neither one making a noise except for the sounds of their breathing. Sokol rested his head on Jacket's chest, listening to heavy thump thump of his heart. It was rather relaxing, something to ground him back in this world. Sokol rested the palm of his hand on Jacket's chest, for once he felt incredibly comfortable in the presence of the older man. "Hey Jacket," Sokol cleared his throat, breaking the silence, "are we okay?"

He felt a gentle rumbling beneath his head, Jacket was letting out a silent chuckle. Sokol figured it was kind of a ridiculous question, considering the tender sex they just had, but he couldn't help it. His curiosity was burning, but Jacket's laughter answered his question. He had a million more questions, but they could wait until later. Sleep was threatening to forcefully take Sokol if he didn't go willingly. Jacket gently caressing Sokol's hair didn't help to keep the younger man awake. Sokol drifted off to sleep in Jacket's surprisingly tender embrace, and Jacket drifted off not long after.


	6. NSFW Hoxton X Houston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoxton and Houston have a hatefuck, and Houston embarrasses Hox in the morning after
> 
> A request for Arsonyard, I hope this satisfies your req ;)

Hoxton sneered derisively at Houston, the wanker had gotten them all caught at the bank. Of course due to the masks, Houston wouldn't actually see Hoxton's sneer, but the fact that he made the face was enough for him. Seriously, the man prided himself on being a ghost, yet he still fucked them all. No it wasn't like he knew the damn vault door was electrified, but that wasn't Hox's fault. "Oi, loverboy, do better next time!" Hoxton called out over the raging gunfire. He was grateful they had called in a few favors before the heist, so there had been a slight delay in the cops actually showing up.

  


Houston flipped off Hoxton, he didn't have time for the Englishman's bullshit. Shit was hitting the fan, and it really wasn't the right time for Hoxton's petty crap. It had been a long enough time since Hoxton's return to the gang, and the return to his mantle, that Hox really aught to have let things go. Unfortunately that was all wishful thinking on Houston's part, he didn’t know the extent that Hox's hatred ran, but he knew it was deep. What a twat. He was fucking sick of being treated the Englishman's personal punching bag.

  


Hoxton fired off a few quick shots towards the oncoming SWAT assault, things were about to get hairy. The vault door swung open, and inside lay a few bags of cash and gold. The heisters all got to work bagging up the loot and carrying it out to the van amidst the gunfire. Twitch had driven away not long after the alarm had gone off, a little too dangerous for his tastes. When the gang got the vault open, Bain made the call to get Twitch to head back to the vault. The tires of the van screeched against the pavement, he had to run a few red lights to get back to the gang promptly. Truthfully a fine for running a red late or three was truthfully the last of his concerns.

  


The ride back to the safehouse was tense. Jimmy tried to cut the tension with jokes, but unfortunately the fuse had already been lit and there was no defusing this bomb. Wolf tried to make conversation with Hoxton, but Hoxton really wasn't in the mood for chatter. He was busy sitting in his seat and seething, the job was going to be so fucking easy. Fucking ripoff had to ruin everything.

  
Twitch pulled into the garage, and the four heisters clambered out of the van. Wolf and Jimmy started hauling bags towards the vault, and Hox threw a bag rather roughly at Houston. Houston coughed harshly when the bag hit him, the bag of gold knocked the wind from his lungs. "What's your fucking problem?" Houston yelled to Hoxton as he started tossing the bags towards the stairs. Twitch had other places to be, so the van needed to be cleared out ASAP.

  


"My fucking problem is you, ya twat." Hox shot back. Houston was pretty fucking dense sometimes, but there was no way he couldn't understand why Hox was mad at him. It was a fucking H&T bank for fucks sake, robbing them was like taking candy from a baby. It was nothing in comparison to what went into robbing First World, or Benevolent. Hox hadn't been looking at Houston when he spoke, otherwise he would've noticed that Houston moved closer to him. He also would've been more prepared for when Houston slammed him up against the wall.   
  
Houston was quite athletic, very cat like. It was something that served him well in his profession, being a ghost was hard if you weren't on top of your game. Houston could only take so much shit from Hoxton before he snapped, and it seemed like he had hit his breaking point. Hoxton held no bars when it came to expressing his distaste for Houston, something that many other heisters found a smidge uncomfortable. It was impossible to ask for everyone to get along of course, there will always be some people who just butt heads. Houston at least did his best to keep is dislike for Hoxton to himself. Truth be told, Houston wouldn't have actually minded getting to know Hoxton, unfortunately the Englishman gave him no such opportunity.

  


The two of them stood there for a moment, Houston pinning Hox to the wall. The latter man was shocked to say the least, he never expected things to get this far. They made eye contact for a moment, Houston pressed Hox harder into the wall. Hox felt his face flush a little, was he getting turned on by this? Well fuck, he needed an out fast, lest Houston discover his growing arousal. But how was the question. Houston was mere inches away from Hox, so there really wasn't much room for moving. Fuck.   
  
Houston leaned his face towards Hoxton's ear, and bit down rather harshly on Hox's earlobe. Houston felt Hoxton's body reacting beneath him, and it made him feel powerful. Finally he would be able to bring Hoxton down a peg or two, maybe he would stop being such a dick to him. Okay, maybe he'd still be a dick, but maybe he'd be less of a dick. He trailed bites and nibbles down Hox's jaw and neck. He left little marks as he went along, he enjoyed the feeling of Hoxton's skin between his teeth. Hox shivered with anticipation, he hated to admit it, but Houston was actually pretty good at this, whatever this was.

  
Jimmy and Wolf had moved the loot by themselves to the vault, neither one wanting to intervene with whatever the fuck was going down between Houston and Hox. It just wasn't worth it, if either of them were being honest with themselves. It was best to keep the injuries isolated, it was easier to deal with two injured heisters instead of four.

  


Hoxton inhaled sharply, what the fuck just happened? Was the wanker coming onto him? Was Hox coming on to Houston? Fucking hell, what had he gotten himself into.

  


The ghost lifted the fugitive up onto the workbench with ease, the latter's eyes widened with surprise. Houston made quick work of unbuttoning Hoxton's pants, he hooked his thumbs under the waist band and pulled them down.

  


Hoxton glanced away, a slight blush creeping up his face. The whole situation was a little embarrassing, albeit a little arousing if he was being honest with himself, anyone could walk into the garage at any given moment. Anyone could see him in nothing but his pants, shirt, and suit jacket, his trousers discarded on the dirty floor of the garage. The windows were frosted, and the van blocked any view someone might have from the window, plus the garage door was actually closed. Still, it didn't stop Hoxton's mind from racing, his heart thundering loudly with the anxiety of being caught. No, it wasn't the idea of being caught that bothered him. He had been caught many times having casual sex with other heisters, it was being caught fucking this dickhead that bothered him.

  


His train of thought came to abrupt halt when he felt Houston's grip on his cock. Houston had pulled off Hoxton's undergarments, Houston had only undone his fly to let his cock be accessible. Houston stroked Hox's cock, just gentle enough to pleasure the man. Houston's cock stood at full attention, he needed to bury his cock in Hox, he needed that release.

  


Hoxton tilted his head back, soft gasps and moans passed his lips. His toes curled in his shoes, his hands looking for purchase to grip onto. The closest thing was Houston, and Hox dug his fingers into Houston's jacket. He was certain that he would wrinkle it, but honestly he really didn't give a shit. "Fuckin wanker." He moaned, a little louder.

  


"Shut the fuck up." Houston growled as he rolled the condom over himself. He clamped a hand over Hoxton's mouth as he entered the man beneath him.

  


Hoxton's eyes rolled into the back of his head, he never expected Houston's cock to be so thick. His ass clamped down onto Houston's cock, he felt so full. The ghost wasted no time in allowing the fugitive to adjust to his cock, one hand on Hoxton's mouth, and the other gripped tight on the fugitive's hip. "Are you going to be quiet?" Houston growled in Hoxton's ear, and nipped at his earlobe again. When he felt the other man nod, he removed his hand from his mouth. He placed his other hand on Hoxton's other hip, and began to thrust upward at a brutal pace. "You're a real piece of shit, you know that?"

  


"Takes one to know one, sunshine." His breathing was heavy and ragged, he gripped tighter onto Houston. One hand slowly crept up to grip onto the nape of his neck, grabbing at the little hairs.

  


Houston hissed in pain, his left hand shot up to grip Hoxton's throat. "Fucking twat." He snarled and squeezed hard. He relished in the delightful shade of red Hoxton's face was turning.

  


Hoxton smirked, jokes on Houston, he was into that shit. He produced a strained moan that was definitely more than loud enough to be heard through the rest of the safehouse. Houston rolled his hips upwards, his climax was very close. Hoxton's legs wrapped around Houston's body, he too was very close.

  


Wolf was walking by the garage to check in on them, he knew that the two of them had a very strained relationship. Correction, everyone new, it wasn’t a secret by any means. Both Houston and Hoxton made it very clear that they hated each other. Wolf expected to hear the cussing and things hitting the ground. When they fought, it was always quite a show. What Wolf didn't expect to hear was the meaty slapping, or the sounds of moaning. Holy shit, were they fucking? Wolf truthfully couldn't believe his ears. He stuck around for a moment just to make sure, they were definitely fucking. Wolf quickly scurried away, lest he too be faced with Hox's wrath.

  


Houston pumped erratically into Hoxton, his balls felt heavy as he unloaded into the condom. Hoxton almost screamed as his orgasm came crashing down on him, his cum landing on his shirt, and a bit on his face. Houston removed his hands quickly from Hox, almost like he was disgusted by the man he just fucked. He carefully pulled the condom off, and disposed of it in the garbage. He buttoned his pants back up and turned to make his way towards the nearest bathroom.

  


Hoxton's chest was heaving, he felt lightheaded both from the lack of oxygen and then the sudden burst of oxygen. "What the fuck do you expect me to do about this?" He gestured at his cum soaked shirt. He was a right mess, his hair stuck up at odd angles, plus there was a deep red hand print on his throat.

  


Houston didn't turn around, he just pushed the door to the basement open. "Figure it out, teabag." While Hox couldn't see his face, he knew Houston was smirking to himself as he left the garage.

  


Hox quickly tried to think of an explanation for his state of undress. He was having a wank and neglected to get something to clean himself up with? No, that wouldn't fly. If he wanted to get off he would've just asked someone else to have a romp in the sheets. Truthfully thinking of a reason could wait until later, exhaustion threatened to pull him under. He stripped off his shirt and suit jacket, it wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten rid of a suit, and it wouldn't be the last either. He picked up his pants off the floor and slipped them on. He the rest of his clothes into a pile in his arms.

  


The key to not ruining your favorite clothes, is to not bring them with you on heists. That way your favorite shirt won't get stained with blood, or riddled with bullet holes. Plus it meant he could reserve his nicest suits for just going around the town, not that he did that much after getting caught. Fucking hell. The fugitive made his way out of the garage, taking the stairs upwards two at a time. It was a little odd, being one of the few heisters who actually stayed full time at the safehouse. It came down to the fact that very few flats would rent to people with a criminal record, especially someone who was a known fugitive. He tried to not let it get to him, the fact that his home wasn't just his. The safehouse was full of lots of strong personalities, so not everyone got along all the time. Whether the butting of heads was Hox's fault or not was up for debate.

  


He pushed open the door to his room, his own private space. He dumped his dirty clothes into the laundry basket. Either he or Aldstone would take care of it later, what was on his mind was sleeping. He peeled back the large comforter, and crawled in beneath it. His bed was soft and warm, and soon he had fallen deep into sleep.   
  
Hoxton could easily sleep through everything. He was one of the heaviest sleepers in the house, and although the people who knew him before complained about it, they were all secretly glad to see him return to his normal self.

  


Hoxton rolled onto his back, the morning light streamed in and hit him right in the face. Had he really slept that long? Never mind that, his stomach growled loudly in demand of sustenance. He turned his head towards the clock on his nightstand, it was 9 in the morning? Fuckin hell, new record. Hoxton's sleep patterns strongly resembled that a 16 year old, he slept all day and stayed up into the late hours of the night. This is something that really irked Houston, who was a morning person, for some unknown reason.

  


Hoxton slipped his feet into his house slippers, not bothering to put anything else on. His body was peppered with a multitude of scars, everything from cigarette burns, old stab wounds and gunshots, and of course the chemical burn that stretched from his face down to his chest. Prison wasn't kind to him, something he kept close to his chest. He wore his scars like a badge of honor, a giant "fuck you" to anyone who had tried to kill him.

  


He made his way down the hall and towards the kitchen, Joy gave him an odd look when she passed him. A cocked eyebrow and a smirk, she high fived him as she made her way towards the office. Hoxton returned the high five, although he didn't really know what for. He hoped that Aldstone had stocked back up on coffee, he really needed that caffeine boost. At the kitchen aisle sat Dallas, Wolf, and Sydney. The three were in the midst of a deep conversation when Hoxton walked in, when they saw him they all fell silent.

  


Sydney grinned and winked, "Nice going!" She took a long sip of her coffee.

  


Hoxton scowled, it was way too early to have this many people talking to him. He turned his back towards the island, and started to put together his coffee. His head was starting to pound from the lack of caffeine. Being up this early in the day sucked, thankfully it wasn't something he planned on repeating. He started up the single serve coffee machine, and watched as the dark liquid started to drip out and into his cup. Sweet elixir of life, he had to remind himself to not just tip the cup right into his mouth, lest he scald himself again.

  


Dallas cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over the heisters in the kitchen again. "Jim, if you're gonna fuck my brother, maybe you and I should…ya know." Dallas trailed off. He didn't exactly want to share a bed partner with his brother, that just didn't really seem right.

  
Hoxton felt the blood rush to his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. "What the fuck?" He swallowed thickly. "I've no idea what you're talking about." He spooned sugar into his mug, just the right amount. It wasn't too late to just grab the cup and go.

  


Houston strolled into the kitchen, clothes already streaked with grease. He smirked when he saw Hoxton, target acquired. He slapped Hoxton's ass, a pleasing smack sounded throughout the kitchen. "Morning, loverboy." He chuckled and stole Hox's coffee.

  


Sydney looked to Wolf, her hand out expectantly. "C'mon, cough it up."   
  
Wolf rolled his eyes, and produced a large stack of cash from his pocket. Sydney counted it quickly, and pocketed the wad, seemingly satisfied.

  


Hoxton couldn't believe what had just happened. Did everyone know that he and Houston fucked? And that wanker stole his coffee! "What the fuck?!" He repeated himself from earlier, his voice rising in pitch.

  


Dallas shook his head. "Sydney and Wolf bet on whether you would be honest about fucking my brother, or if you'd try and deny it." He paused for a moment, making intent eye contact with Hoxton before continuing. "You're also not very quiet, Jim." He drank deeply from his cup.

  


Hoxton stared incredulously at the kitchen group. "Fuck all of you wankers. I'm going back to bed." He spun on his heels, and gave them all the double finger salute. It was way too early to be awake anyway.

  



	7. SFW Hoxton X Dallas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoxton is dealing with paranoia of another rat, courtesy of his trauma. Dallas comforts him and reassures him there is no rat
> 
> A request for Krappuy on Tumblr!

Hoxton's heart leapt to his throat, why was it so hard to breathe? Fuck he couldn't catch his breath, his throat was tightening and his ribcage constricting around his lungs. In for five, hold, and out for five. Just keep breathing, it's important to focus on something. What could he focus on, his mind was racing, it was hard to pin point on something to keep him calm. Dallas wrapped his arms around Hox, his warmth comforting the fugitive. He let himself be pulled closer, his lover smelt heavily of cigarettes and whiskey. A smell Hox found rather comforting the longer he'd been with Dallas.

He listened intently to gentle thumping of Dallas' heart, a tune that started to lull him back to sleep. Unfortunately he couldn't stop the racing of his mind, suspicion and paranoia about his fellow heisters. The only people he could really trust was Dallas, Chains, Wolf, and of course Aldstone. Someone in the gang had ratted them out to feds, how else could anyone explain all the raids on the safehouse?  


"What's wrong, Jim?" Dallas murmured groggily. He had an uncanny ability of knowing when Hox was having a hard time going back to sleep.

Hox smiled softly, he knew lying was futile. He knew better than to lie to him, it just wasn't worth it. Last time Hox tried to lie to Dallas, he was immediately called out on his bullshit. "Just my minds racing again." He swallowed thickly, his mouth and throat feeling impossibly dry.

Dallas nodded, and moved Hox's head to rest on his chest. Hox could better hear the sound of Dallas' heart, and once again his racing thoughts started to slow down to a crawl. The mastermind began humming a lullaby, something his mother had done for him when he was a child fighting his night terrors. He stroked Hox's back up and down, another thing his mother had done for him.

Eventually sleep claimed Hoxton, his sleep black and dreamless.

* * *

When Hox woke up in the morning, the previously warm spot next to him was empty and cool. Where had Dallas gone? What time was it? He glanced at the clock, it was two in the afternoon. Of course Dallas was already gone, it was well past a respectable time to be awake. His brows knit together, where was Nate? His skin itched, and his breathing hastened. Fuck. In for five, hold, out for five. That was the breathing his therapist taught him, a good way to calm his nerves. He needed to ground himself and not let his anxiety get the best of him.

He had two options, either lay in bed for some ungodly amount of time, or get up and start functioning like everyone else in the safehouse. The benefit of staying in bed, was that he could continue to ignore the world around him and wait for Nathan to come back. The cons being that he would eventually need to look for food, and wouldn't be able to continue to look for the rat. He weighed the benefits of getting out of bed; he would have access to food, and to be able to look for the rat. The only con of actually getting out of bed, was having to interact with everyone else.

The benefits outweighed the cons on actually getting out of bed, and that settled it for Hox. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, tossing the blankets to the side. His feet planted in the soft carpet beneath the bed, searching for his house slippers. When his feet made contact, he slipped them on. They were soft bunny slippers, a secret Santa gift from a few years back. The air was slightly cooler outside of the comfort of his bed, small goosebumps formed on his skin. He stretched upwards as he stood, feeling his body crack and pop. Heisting, while an incredibly lucrative job, was also incredibly demanding on one's body.

He walked towards the door, slippers muffling his footsteps, and unhooked the housecoat from the back of the door. It wasn't actually his, in fact it belonged to Dallas, but it smelled like home. Hoxton slipped it over his cold shoulders, the weighted pockets bounced off his thighs. Dallas frequently left a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in them, just in case he felt like going for a morning smoke before getting changed for the day. It was these little things that helped keep Hox grounded, these were things that always were. Dallas always woke up early, and he always left cigarettes in his pockets.

He turned the door handle, but not before taking a deep inhale first. It was time to be a waking member of society. The heavenly scent of coffee was the first thing that Hox noticed, the second being was that the safehouse was full. Everyone had come by to start working on the next job. No one quite knew what it was, all they knew was that there was going to be a chance to actually get out and do some work. Hoxton made his way down the hall, careful to avoid conversation lest he accidentally say something incriminating. He'd already been to prison once, twice if you counted his time in HMYOI, and he had no intention of ever repeating that.

Dallas was busy buzzing around the kitchen, he was preparing something, maybe it was early prep work for dinner? Dallas did enjoy cooking quite a bit, something Hoxton never understood. The mastermind had an apron tied around his waist that simply stated "Kiss the crook", it was an anniversary gift from Hox. When he saw Hoxton, his face lit up. "Ah, you're awake." He walked over and pecked his lover tenderly on the lips. It was easy to tell when Hox had only been awake for a few moments, no use in overwhelming him with information.

Hoxton smiled softly, a smile that he reserved only for his partner, and for coffee. He continued past Dallas into the kitchen, and scooped up the large mug of coffee. There wasn't much steam rising off the top, it was perfect drinking temperature. "Have you heard anything, Nathan?" What sounded like a normal question about the job, was also a question about information in regards to the raids. Dallas knew about Hoxton's paranoia, the latter man's trauma therapist recommended communicating with Dallas about his mental health.

Dallas shook his head softly, and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "No, Jim." The raids really bothered Dallas too, but unlike his partner, he didn't believe it had to do with anyone from the inside. The safehouse was situated on the outskirts of D.C, but that didn't mean there wasn't any other houses around. The neighbors got suspicious on occasion, that amount of people living in one house down the street was a little odd.

Hoxton blew air through his nose. It was too early in his day to be frustrated. He knocked the rest of his coffee back, and set the empty mug in the sink. It was hard to breathe, hard to think. Too many eyes and ears around the safehouse. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back and tucking loose strands behind his ears. "You wanna ditch this shite?" It was the perfect excuse to get the fuck out. The two of them could just go out and drive around for a while, enjoy some time together. The added bonus being that no one would be able to feed more information about him to the feds.

Dallas' brows furrowed, something was off. "Sure, Jim. Might wanna get actually dressed first, though." His eyes roamed up and down Hox's state of undress, while he himself didn’t mind, he was sure Hox might care.

A soft blush crept up Hox's cheeks. Of course he forgot about that. The escape plan would have to wait for a bit. He really had no interest in being seen out and about in nothing but slippers and a housecoat. "Ah, right." A sheepish grin spread across his face. "I'll get on that." The Englishman spun on his heels, leaving Dallas to shake his head at his partner.

Hoxton stared in the mirror, he had purchased it himself and had it checked over to make sure there were no cameras. He smoothed the front of his suit down, he needed to look normal. He wore a navy suit with white pinstripes, he craved the nostalgia. When he was mostly satisfied with his appearance, unfortunately there are just some things he couldn't change, he made his way for the door. Dallas would be waiting for him down by the car.  
  
They wouldn't be taking the van, too conspicuous, plus there might be a job later. The crew would need the van, and Dallas and Hox would have to cut their outing short. Hoxton inhaled deeply, his heart racing in his chest, anxiety bubbling up in his chest. In for five, hold, out for five. He just needed to make it outside, and away from the safehouse, away from everyone.

Dallas waited for Hoxton in a sleek black sportscar, if they could afford the high life, why not live it? Hoxton pulled the door handle to the passenger's side, and hopped in. The leather seats creaked beneath him, they just needed to be broken in a little.

Dallas drove for some time, not really having a destination in mind, and neither did Hox. He really wasn't much help in that department. The pair were silent for a long time, just sitting and absorbing each other's presence. Eventually, Dallas broke the silence, his eyes never leaving the road ahead of them. "What's going on, Jim?"

Hoxton stared out the window, trying to think of what to say. "I'm worried about a rat." It was best to be straightforward and honest. Despite Dallas being a heavy smoker, his car never smelt like it. It smelt like leather, and mint, maybe a hint of vanilla.

Dallas' lips formed a tight line. Hoxton knew it was a stupid idea to confide in Dallas. There was no point, the man would laugh at him. He was a fool, why'd he have to open his fucking mouth? His heart leapt into his throat, his fingers felt numb. Anxiety and panic started to constrict his throat and lungs. "There isn't a rat, Jim." Dallas said very plainly, but reached out a hand to rub Hox's thigh. The options for physical comfort were very limited in the car, so he settled for the best he could. Before Hoxton could counter Dallas, he spoke again. "I've been working with Bain to keep an eye on everyone. I know there's a lot of new blood, and a lot of raids recently."

In for five, hold, out for five. It was hard to keep the panic from erupting, hard to keep himself under control. "Pull over." Hoxton demanded, his stomach was lurching.  
  
Thankfully they were in the middle of nowhere, so there were plenty of places to pull over. Hoxton leapt from the car, and dry heaved. He couldn't breathe, his head was spinning, and he felt out of control. He didn't hear Dallas get out of the car, but he felt the other man's arms wrap around him. He leaned into Dallas' touch, feeling himself return back to reality. His feet planted on the ground, he was here, on the side of the road, wrapped in the arms of his lover. His heart pounded furiously, it threatened to burst through his ribcage and keep going.

Dallas hummed softly, and gently rocked Hoxton back and forth. "It's going to be okay." He murmured softly into the top of Hoxton's hair. The Englishman inhaled sharply, inhaling all the lovely smells of home. The back of his throat burned, his fingers itched for a cigarette. Something to just help settle him further, it was a terrible habit really, but it was something he shared with Dallas.

The two of them sat together on the side of the road for what felt like forever. The sky was high in the sky when they left, but now the large streaks of orange lined the horizon. Hoxton leaned as far as he could into Dallas, letting his warmth envelop him. It was a nice change form the cold pit in his stomach. He had admitted to Dallas about his paranoia spiking again, he also admitted he hadn't been making it to his therapy appointments.  
  
Dallas wasn't angry, not even disappointed, he was just worried for his partner. It wasn't unlike him to keep things close to his chest, in fact the man became a total brick wall after coming back from prison. This was something of a different matter though, and Hoxton knew he fucked up. Therapy is incredibly personal, and it's definitely a choice to continue or not. Both men knew that Hoxton really benefitted from his time in therapy, and they both knew it was a mistake for Hoxton to stop going.

"Think it's about time we start headin' home." Hox's voice was a little hoarse, nearly vomiting and panic attacks tend to do that to a person. Dallas nodded and helped the other man to his feet.

  
"Do you need me to drive you to your next appointment?" Dallas asked as they got back into the car. The radio stayed off, the only sounds being the car's tires rolling over the uneven pavement.

Hoxton rested his forehead on the window, and mulled over it in his head. "Do you mind sitting in with me?" He turned his head to Dallas. Therapy is incredibly personal, and Hox wanted share that space with Dallas. He figured it'd be a good way for Dallas to be able to participate in his healing. Of course Dallas wouldn't sit in for every session, but it would be nice to have him there.

Dallas reached out for Hoxton's hand, and held it gently in his own. "Of course, let me know when you're ready."

The rest of the car ride was quiet, just the sounds of their breathing and the car engine rumbling. Hoxton was still quite paranoid, and Dallas was there to reassure him every step of his journey to heal.


	8. SFW Hoxton X Dallas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW For implied prison rape
> 
> Hoxton has a flashback to his time in prison, Dallas comforts him. A request for Krappuy
> 
> Something short and sweet, hope you enjoy :)

Silvery moonlight streamed in from behind the gauzy curtains in Dallas' room. It was late, or really early in the morning depending on how you looked at it. Dallas rose from the bed, careful to not accidentally disturb the sleeping man next to him. He couldn't sleep, the issues with the Kataru had really been taking it's toll on his sleeping schedule. Dallas was often awake late into the night, and awake early in the morning. The lack of sleep was something his partner found rather concerning, but honestly it just wasn't worth it to get into. They all had enough on their plates, no need to add a lover's spat on top of it.

Dallas walked as quietly as he could muster across the room. He spotted his housecoat hanging off the back of the door, target acquired. He was just going to have a quick smoke, just something to ease his nerves before going back to bed. He slipped the housecoat over his shoulders, and left the room. The apartment was rather quiet late into the night, it was a little eerie. Cars drove by on the wet pavement below, distant lives, safe from the chaos reigning in the lives of the Payday gang. The fridge hummed in the kitchen, Dallas paid it no mind, he wasn't really hungry.

He approached the balcony door, and slid it open. The cool night air rushed passed him, making the hairs on the back of neck stand on end. It had rained earlier, the railing of the balcony was still a little wet. He slipped his hands into his pockets to fish out a cigarette and his lighter. The lighter flipped open with ease, and he sparked it to life. The cigarette lit pretty quickly, and he pressed it between his lips. He held the lighter in his hand for a moment while he leaned on the balcony. It was a silver lighter, engraved with a swirling letter "J" and "N". It was a sweet token of Hoxton's love, something Dallas cherished.

Hoxton wasn't really known for being outwardly kind, especially since he came back from prison. It had been some time since Hoxton's return to the gang, but Dallas knew that the ghosts of prison still haunted the man. It was apparent in the way that Hoxton would double check to make sure the bathroom was empty before undressing, in the way that he showered quickly when he was alone. Hoxton didn't talk much about what happened to him in prison, not the things that really mattered to Dallas anyway. Sure he'd go on and brag about how he broke Matt's ribs so many times he was sure that Matt was going to have permanent damage. He also spoke highly of some of the friends he made in prison, swearing to send some ciggies back there way. He never talked about the things that secretly traumatized him, those he kept close to his chest.

Dallas tucked the lighter back into his pocket, and took a deep drag from his cigarette. The rain started up again, just a gentle drizzle. It wasn't enough to send Dallas back inside before he finished his cigarette. The smoke burned in the back of his throat, he really needed to steal Hoxton's preferred brand more often. Dallas had grown accustomed to the smoothness of Hoxton's cigarettes, or maybe it was really more that the taste reminded him of his lover. Dallas blew the smoke from his lips after taking another long drag, it puffed out in a large cloud before dissipating into the rain.

Soon he reached the end, and he ground it into the ashtray. He needed to remember to actually empty it soon, he couldn't do it now considering that last cigarette was still a little warm. Dallas slid the glass door back open, stepped inside, and slid it closed behind him. The inside of the apartment was warm and cozy, he had given Hox free reign of interior decoration. He made his way quietly through the apartment, and back towards the bedroom. His blood ran cold when he heard heavy breathing and the sounds of someone straining to breathe. Dallas dashed to the bedroom, and swung the door open.

Hoxton sat up in the middle of the bed, a hand clutched to his chest, the other gripping the sheets below him. Tears ran from his eyes, his face reddened from the lack of oxygen. Dallas carefully got onto the bed, and held onto Hoxton. He was careful to not restrict the man's movement, just tight enough to say 'I'm here now.' Hoxton's breathing slowed a little bit, and the pair rocked back and forth. Dallas hummed softly, panic attacks weren't really within his area of expertise.

"I'm here now." Dallas murmured out loud as well.

The Englishman wrapped his arms around his partner to the best of his ability. His whole body was shuddering, and Dallas wondered silently what had happened to cause the panic attack. Hoxton sniffled loudly, a sound which caused a deep pang in Dallas' heart. "I woke up…you weren't there." Hoxton spoke very quietly, Dallas almost didn't hear him.

Dallas planted a gentle kiss on top of Hoxton's head, the Englishman's hair was wild from sleep. It was cute in a way, seeing Hoxton's hair tousled from a long night of tossing and turning. "I'm sorry." Dallas murmured into Hoxton's hair. "Talk to me about it." Dallas stroked Hoxton's back hoping to provide the other man comfort in his touch.   
  
Hoxton leaned into Dallas, his pajamas damp with sweat. How long had Hoxton been feeling this way? "I was back in Hazelton." Hoxton started, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You lot never came back for me. Left me to rot in that shithole." He sniffled again, and Dallas could feel Hox's silent tears soaking into his shirt. Hoxton's words tumbled from his mouth, he spoke about how traumatizing his two years in prison were. Thursdays were not a good night in Hazelton, regardless of the fact that he had tried to make light of it when he was freed.

Hoxton pulled away from Dallas, his hand idly brushing over his facial scars. Dallas brushed his fingertips across Hox's skin, and hooked his fingers under the Englishman's chin. He lifted up his face so Hoxton would be looking at him, he leaned in to brush their lips together. "I'll love you no matter what." Dallas whispered against his lover's lips before fully closing the gap. He could feel the corners of Hox's lips turn upwards, a rare smile.

The pair lay back down on the bed, Dallas on his back, and Hoxton resting his head on Dallas' chest. It was pleasant, feeling the weight of Hoxton's body on his own, feeling the warmth of his lover next to him. Dallas ran his fingers through Hoxton's hair, the strands passing easily through his fingers. The sensation was soothing, something he could see himself doing endlessly. Hoxton hummed softly into Dallas' chest, eventually his breathing slowed down to a deep inhalation and exhalation. Dallas was certain that his lover had fallen asleep, a thought which brought him a sense of peace. Hoxton needed to rest, he could only imagine the toll a panic attack would have on the man's energy.   


Dallas, before now, had no idea of how bad prison was for Hoxton. It filled him with a deep ache, a pain that he had really only ever experienced a handful of times before. He was reminded of the day when Hox was taken in, a memory that shot ice through his veins. It was never his intention to leave Hox behind, shit got out of hand as things always seemed to for the gang. It was harder when it was just the five of them, no one to call for backup when things got hairy. It was just Chains, Dallas, Wolf, and Hoxton with their boots on the ground, and Bain to be the eyes in the sky.

Dallas silently swore to himself that he would never let Hox go again. Neither of them could handle a pain like that again.

Dallas was awake for a long time after Hoxton fell back asleep, his mind too full of thoughts. It was difficult, not being able to turn off the incessant static of the mind. His eyes were dry with lack of sleep. He listened intently to the slow, deep breaths of the man next to him. It was a reminder, in his eyes, that they were both alive. Something that was easy to take for granted sometimes. The idea was amusing to Dallas, the idea of taking being alive for granted. Considering the fact that they were career criminals, and that Garrett was upping the ante, he really shouldn't be taking his life for granted. Perhaps it wasn't really life that he had been taking granted, but rather his freedom, and the freedom of others.

Being reminded of Hox's time in prison really put things into perspective for him. Maybe it was time to consider hanging up the mantle, to let Dallas die, to rise from his ashes as Nathan. He thought for a long while about what it would be like to settle down with Jim. What would they do for the rest of their lives? For starters, Dallas thought it would be worthwhile to start going to therapy, maybe even couples therapy. After all this shit was over, maybe the pair would move out to a cozy cottage out in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps they would travel the world, or maybe they would both die in the line of fire.

The early rays of dawn started filtering into the room, producing a soft golden light that framed Hoxton's head. It was a welcome distraction from the depressing turn Dallas' thoughts had taken. It made him want to work harder towards a future where the two of them could just live normal lives. Despite the fact that Dallas wished he had gone back to sleep instead of indulging in his mental static, he wouldn't have traded this moment for the world. Seeing the golden halo around his lover's head, it was something he would commit to memory for the rest of his life.


End file.
